Beating Around the Bush (22 page)

Ugly American tourists in Europe would make snide remarks about the French franc and compare the Italian lire to Kleenex.

Everywhere they went there were signs in the store windows, “English Spoken—Dollars Welcome. Owner Willing to Take the Abuse.”

American tourists pretended they were superior to the culture of “Old Europe.” We were the new Empire and we made sure everyone knew it. I remember buying an English-French dictionary in Paris. The first thing you were supposed to say to a French merchant was, “How much is that in dollars?” The second thing you said was, “You are a crook.”

It wasn’t until 1957 that we printed “In God We Trust” on our greenbacks. We always knew God was behind the dollar, but we wanted to make sure the Communists knew it.

There were a few Americans who claimed that by putting God on our currency we were mixing church and state. But they lost the battle. From then on the whole world knew that God supported our currency. In order to attract people, the credit card companies put out the word that God also supported plastic, which was the same thing as dollars.

Obviously, the more dollars you had, the happier you were. Also, for some reason, the more you had, the less you had to pay. The American Dream was up there with God and Country.

Why am I prattling like this?

Out of the blue, the dollar is now dropping and the euro is going up.

The U.S. laughed when the euro first came out, but it isn’t laughing anymore. To fight back we printed more money, but the more we printed, the more the dollar went down hill.

European merchants took down their “English Spoken Here” signs. A cup of coffee now costs five American dollars. Postcards are $30, and a gondola in Venice goes for $50 an hour—with no singing.

For the first time we are being publicly humiliated because our dollar is weak. Some ask, “Has God let us down?”

People have different answers. The most popular one is, “God didn’t let us down—we let God down.”

The White House keeps saying, “The dollar is exactly where we want it to be—or it wouldn’t be there.”

Another response is, “We are being punished because our moral values have sunk to a new low.”

And, of course, you hear people saying, “It is all Alan Greenspan’s fault.”

If there is any solace in all this, it is that the Canadian dollar is weaker than the American one. This causes friction between our neighboring countries, but there is nothing they can do about it—except field a good hockey team.

I am sure the dollar will come back, particularly if China buys more American toys than we buy Chinese ones.

When I told a friend that France is attacking our money he said, “What else is new?”

CAN YOU REMEMBER where you were when Jimmy Carter was sworn in as president of the United States?

I can, because I was there.

ABC TV, in its ultimate wisdom, had hired me to be one of its commentators at Carter’s inauguration. I imagine they thought I could boost their ratings.

This is true, so don’t call and ask if I made it up. I am not making it up.

My first assignment, for which I was dressed exactly like my idol, Mike Wallace, was to sit in a booth across from the White House with Harry Reasoner, and comment on the parade.

It was just the two of us and we were having a very good time. The producer kept saying, “Keep it light.”

Somewhere in No Man’s Land (or in this case, No Woman’s Land), Barbara Walters was working the crowd. She suddenly appeared in our booth. In those days Barbara was a feisty reporter who realized the action was where she was. Barbara took over and Harry and I just sat there biting our knuckles.

But that isn’t the story.

That evening I was assigned to cover one of the balls at the Sheraton Washington Hotel. It was jammed with thousands of happy revelers. I was told to stand at the end of the ballroom with a producer, in case Jimmy Carter’s mother came that way.

One hour, two hours passed—no mother.

Then I realized I had to tinkle. The washroom was miles away at the other end of the ballroom. I said to the producer standing next to me, “I have to tinkle.”

The producer radioed to the TV booth high up, “He has to tinkle.”

A voice came down from the sky, “Tell him to stay where he is. It is not in his contract that he can tinkle. I don’t want to hear about his plumbing problems.”

There was agony on my face. The voice on high was saying one thing; my kidneys were saying just the opposite. Did I tell you I am on the advisory board of the National Kidney Foundation?

As luck would have it, I found an empty beer can on the floor. I also saw a heavy velvet curtain next to me. I told the producer, “I am going in.”

Now all anyone could see were my black shoes. Two Secret Service agents took out their guns. My producer yelled, “Don’t shoot! He is one of ours.”

Lillian Carter never did show up.

Ever since then I have been putting the dots together. If ABC hadn’t hired me I would never have been seated in the same booth with Barbara Walters. And if I hadn’t been assigned to the ball at the Sheraton Washington (there were eight other balls that night), and if I hadn’t been stationed miles away from the men’s washroom, and if I hadn’t had to tinkle and didn’t almost get shot by the Secret Service, and if I had gotten a one-minute interview with Lillian Carter, today I would have the job that Barbara Walters has, at her salary, and I would be looked upon as another Dan Rather.

I don’t think about it—except every four years. As I told Tom Brokaw in the back seat of a taxi, “I could have been a contender.”

ACCORDING TO MY CONTRACT I am permitted to write one column per year about my grandchild.

Well, here it is.

Corbin received his first junk call last week. Corbin is 2 years old, so there was great excitement in house about the call. It came at dinnertime, the most popular time for the calls to take place.

When my daughter-in-law picked up the phone, the voice on the other end of the line said, “May I speak to Corbin Buchwald concerning a 50-percent discount on our news magazine?”

His mother said, “He is right here.”

She gave him the phone. He listened to the pitch with glee. His mother said, “It is his first junk call. I am so proud. Corbin is not allowed to make or receive phone calls, but this is different.”

Corbin listened and then occasionally said, “Um, ugh,” a language he uses around the house all the time.

The pitchman, who rarely gets someone who does not hang up on him, kept talking.

Corbin, holding the phone, picked up his favorite automobile and pushed it under the table.

The whole time he was on the phone he kept smiling. After four minutes the pitchman decided his fish was off the hook and ended the call.

Corbin started to cry, assuming he had done something wrong.

The table gave him a rousing ovation, and he calmed down.

The conversation the rest of the evening had to do with junk calls.

My son, Corbin’s father, asked, “How did they get his name?”

Mitchell Perlstein, a guest, said, “The people who give out birth information in the hospital probably sold it to them.”

I said, “It is more sinister than that. Homeland Security keeps a file on every Corbin in America. There are several on the TSA

‘No Fly’ list.”

Perlstein said, “I never heard of any terrorist named Corbin.”

I replied, “That is probably his code name for ‘Ali.’”

My daughter-in-law said, “I saw a show on television and it said the news magazines have the best lists of all. They guard them with their lives, and will pay a dollar for each new name.”

“Don’t forget charities,” Carol Wheeler said. “I buy lists for my charity from anyone who will sell them.”

“Is Corbin on your list?” I asked.

“I will check it out tomorrow.”

My son said, “Why not put Corbin on the ‘Don’t Call list?’”

My daughter-in-law vetoed the idea. “If we do Corbin won’t get anymore junk calls.”

I asked, “How will he know?”

“Corbin is a very smart 2-year-old. He knows everything that goes on in the house.”

I said, “The trouble with all this is every time the phone rings he’ll answer it, and not all of the calls will be junk calls. It is your fault that you gave him the phone. Now he thinks everyone wants to speak to him.”

Mitchell Perlstein said, “You’re spoiling him. If he can take junk calls when he is two what has he got to look forward to when he’s 3?”

My son suggested, “Junk mail? He loves the catalogues. When he’s three he can open all of them.”

My daughter-in-law said, “I am sure when he gets to be 3 he will have his own junk mail address.”

At that moment the telephone rang and both Corbin and I made a dash for it. I won by a nose.

It is going to be a tough winter.

NOW THAT PRESIDENT BUSH is in power for four more years, I have to think of myself. I’d like some extra money.

I didn’t have any good ideas until I read where Armstrong Williams, a conservative newspaper columnist and talk show host, received $240,000 from the Department of Education to publicize the president’s “No Child Left Behind Act.”

He was a partner in a public relations firm on the side, and that is how he got the account.

There is no doubt Williams did a good job and the Administration got its money’s worth. Of course, there is always criticism when taxpayers’ money is spent by the government without anyone knowing about it. Williams denied he had done anything more than any grubby talk show personality-columnist-public relations person would do under the circumstances.

Then it was discovered Williams had lost his moral compass. The media found out he received money for vocally supporting the No Child Left Behind Act. This is one of Bush’s favorite programs and his people will pay $240,000 to push it through.

When I read about this, it dawned on me that I could make extra money by publicizing the president’s new agenda.

First I called the Department of Education and said, “I know more children left behind than Armstrong Williams.”

“We’re glad to hear that,” was the reply.

“Now I am willing to back it up in my column. But it will cost you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want to make the same deal with you that you made with Williams. If you pay my public relations firm $240,000 dollars I
will let everyone know that the No Child Left Behind Act is a slam-dunk shot.”

The man on the phone said, “We have no more money in our NCLB budget for any more conflict-of-interest outsiders.”

“But I have to make some government money to supplement my income.”

He said, “Call the Department of Health and Human Services. They have money for columnists who are willing to write favorably about heterosexual marriage and against same-sex marriages.”

“How do you know this?” I asked.

Maggie Gallagher, a syndicated columnist, is said to have been paid $21,000 form the Department of Health and Human Services to make sure everyone knows that Mr. Bush wants a constitutional amendment that, in essence, would forbid people of the same sexual persuasion to take their vows, as they can now do in Massachusetts.”

I immediately called the department.

The lady was very polite. I said, “No one is more of a family man than I am. I believe in heterosexual marriage, even if it ends in divorce.”

“That is fine. What do you want from us?”

“I heard the department paid Maggie Gallagher $21,000 to say the same thing.”

She said, “We know where Ms. Gallagher stands on marriage vows. But we don’t know where you stand.”

“I will stand any where you want me to stand. I need the money.”

“Submit ten columns where you have supported President Bush, and we will decide whether or not to give you the same break we gave Ms. Gallagher.”

I said, “Could I have an advance?”

WHEN THE COUNTRY is not worried about one thing, it is worried about another. This week’s crisis is Social Security.

The President made it the cornerstone of his “State of the Union Speech,” and when he tells us to worry, we better darn well pay attention.

The reaction to the speech was not all positive. For one thing, the President wasn’t too sure how he wanted us to live in our old age. All he said was, if we didn’t fix the system it would go bankrupt and our children and their children would have no pensions to carry them through their Golden Years.

It isn’t where you stand politically that affects how you think about Social Security, it is what age bracket you are in.

Some of the reactions I heard were as follows:

Stevens said, “The President claims that Social Security will go bankrupt, but he didn’t mention the national debt of 7 trillion dollars and the 427-billion-dollar deficit.”

I said, “He wanted to be upbeat about the State of the Union and give a feel-good speech.”

Wagshall told me, “I am 55. By the time Social Security is fixed, I will be 104 and either dead or on
The Today Show
with Willard Scott.”

Not everyone who heard the speech was convinced they should worry about the children. Anderson said, “I hate my kids. I haven’t seen them for two years. They blew every dollar I ever gave them, and they will blow their Social Security on booze and girls.”

Of course one of the major issues has to do with Mr. Bush allowing younger people to invest in the stock market.

The Democrats are against it. Franklin told me, “The only
things young people invest in are records and rock concerts. They can’t tell the difference between Enron and Google. I can just see them when the finally get to a retirement home and are unable to read the
Wall Street Journal
because the type is too small.”